


Ripening

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: The Golden Years [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, bathubs, domestic future, fireplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel travels far and wide, but he always comes home to a low slung cabin by the lake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripening

In a low slung cabin that always threatened to slide into the depths of the lake beside it, two men sat on the porch drinking beers from a Styrofoam cooler and talked about nothing at all. Frog song rattled through the twilight, a deeper counterpoint to the raucous cicadas. Castiel walked down the gravel driveway, keys jangling against change in his pockets. 

“...said the spider to the fly.” Sam was saying amid Dean’s chuckles as Castiel grew closer. 

“Hey now. Look what finally came home.” Dean set down the beer bottle, standing from the chair to saunter out to meet Castiel with a lazy grin. There was silver at his temples these days, a few more laugh lines at the corner of his mouth and little more meat on his bones. Castiel liked the changes, cataloging them carefully as evidence of Dean’s survival. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

They eyed each other carefully, then Dean slid his hands over Castiel’s waist and drew him in. The kiss was languid, a thorough reacquainting of lips and tongue. Castiel could feel the steady thud of Dean’s heart under his palm and the last of the road weariness dropped away. Dean pulled away in increments, hands sliding from Castiel to his own pockets, a pleased smile still on his face. 

“How was the trip?” He asked, low and a little rough. 

“Fine. They are well organized and grateful for the assistance. They sent me back with several gifts for the both of you and Amita has requested that you call her more frequently.” 

“I’ll remind her of that next time she starts swearing a blue streak at me.” Dean lean in to kiss him again, a faster brush of lips as if he just couldn’t help it. “I’ll unload the car.” 

“Thank you.” Castiel touched Dean’s side as he passed by, a last anchoring before taking the porch steps up to Sam. 

“Hey, Cas.” Sam didn’t get up, his left leg propped on another chair, but he spread his arms wide and Castiel bent into them, receiving another enthusiastic greeting with an added nip to his bottom lip. “Everyone ok up there?” 

“Apparently so.” Castiel pulled back enough to study Sam’s eyes, green grey in the fading sunlight. “I missed you.” 

“Yeah?” Sam grinned. “Even though we were driving you crazy when you left?” 

“The road to madness is longer than a bit of bickering can drive.” He perched on the chair next to Sam’s foot. “Your knee?” 

“Stumbled getting out of bed yesterday and it gave right out on me.” Rubbing at the offending joint, Sam played down a wince. “Be fine in a few days.” 

Age had played a lighter hand with Sam’s looks than Dean’s as if the few years that separated them were a decade. Under the skin though, Sam was far worse off. His left knee had been shattered on a routine case years ago and never healed right. Various head traumas over the years meant migraines now, striking at random and lasting for days. There were reading glasses always tucked in his collar of his t-shirts, the perfect sharpshooter vision long since faded away. 

Castiel reached out to lay hands on Sam’s knee. There was no power in his palms anymore, but Sam liked the warmth. Sometimes Castiel ached for what had been, what he could have done. Other times, like this, he reveled in the simple touch and Sam’s hand moving to cover his own. 

“If you girls are done staring deeply into each other’s eyes, can we get inside? It’s mosquito hour.” Dean had Castiel’s bag slung over his shoulder, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. Castiel and Sam pointedly said nothing and Dean straightened back up, the barely there smile still lingering. 

“Sam and I can just easily stare inside.” Castiel said mildly, getting to his feet and offering Sam his hands. It took a little doing to get Sam to his feet. 

The cabin was mostly one large room, save for the bedroom and bathroom. In Castiel’s absence, the teetering piles of Sam’s research had migrated from the dining room into the living room. The couch had become a no man’s land of notebooks and spent pens, a pillow lingering on one end where Sam must have propped his leg while he worked. The dining room table now held up the bulk of Dean’s arsenal, set up neatly for cleaning. It was easy to imagine them, sitting at their respective projects and talking across the wide space. 

“Sorry.” Sam gestured at the mess. “Just got out of hand.” 

“Did you discover anything new?” 

“Nah. Just starting to see a pattern. We’ll see.” 

“Hey, Cas, you hungry?” Dean set Castiel’s bag inside the doorway of their bedroom. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll heat something up then. Can you cram Paul Bunyan into the bathtub? Heat’ll be good for him.” 

“I can manage a bath on my own.” Sam grumbled, but he was already walking that way without releasing Castiel’s hand. 

The tub was a massive claw footed monstrosity. Dean had found it in an abandoned house on one of their now rare hunts. Getting it here had been a nightmare, but well worth the effort once Dean had installed it. It was the only bathtub that easily swallowed Sam’s bulk, sometimes with another person if they were creative. 

Hot water cascaded out of the faucet as Castiel helped Sam strip down. If he trailed kisses over Sam’s stomach and left a pinking mark on his thigh then that was all to the better. Sam slid into the water with a grateful moan, eyes shut in pleasure. Castiel knelt beside the tub, trailing his fingers along the surface. Sam reached out, unerringly finding Castiel’s hand. 

“Will you leave again soon?” Sam asked softly as the rising steam. 

“No.” Castiel raised Sam’s wet hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. “I’m home for a good long while.” 

“S’what I like to hear.” Dean was at Castiel’s back, a plate in hand. “Leftover lasagna.” 

“Thank you.” Castiel took it, releasing Sam’s hand to set in on the food. 

“You think you can budge up a little there?” Dean asked Sam, already shedding his outer layers. 

“Fuck off.” But Sam could budge up, the knee already looser from the heat and willing to bend. 

Dean moved with care, jostling nothing as he settled into the bath and against Sam. They tucked together as if they had been made for it, the easy intimacy of a lifetime. Sam wrapped one arm around Dean’s chest, his hand splayed over Dean’s heart. 

Castiel ate slowly, watched as Dean grew pink and pliable in the heat while Sam’s heavy lidded gaze went from relaxed to predatory. He turned his narrowing eyes to Castiel, who set down his empty plate and returned the look with his own, more contemplative one. 

“Penny for your thoughts.” Said Sam, a husky implicit burr in his voice. 

“I was thinking of the lines of your back, the dip just before your ass.” Castiel rumbled back. “I would like to sink my teeth into it.” 

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean’s eyes flew open, interest vivid in the depths. 

“Yes. Please.” He set his hands on the rim of the tub, but too many failed experiments had taught him that all three of them could not fit at once. 

“Go to the bedroom.” Sam ordered with a molasses smile. “We’ll towel off and meet you there, ok?” 

“Fine.” Castiel rose, taking his plate with him. 

It didn’t bother him to hear the soft wet noises of kissing as he trailed outwards. It was his choice to leave so frequently from the home they had painstakingly carved out. Sometimes it was like this when he came back, Dean and Sam falling deeper into the bottomless cavern of each other. They always took Castiel back in, but perhaps they thought he needed the reminder that they were self-sufficient. If one day his journeys took him too far for too long, he would come back to find the space set aside for him had sealed up. 

He washed the plate, setting it in the drying rack and taking a few breaths to look out over the lake where the sun had gone right on setting. It dyed the lake a furious streak of oranges. A family of ducks that Sam had taken to feeding stood about on the lawn, picking their dinner from the grass. 

Settling back into the house always took Castiel off guard. Maybe, more charitably, that was why Sam had sent him away. So he could remember that he did have a place here, clear in the third mug left out by the coffee maker and the three folding chairs on the dock. Maybe the issue was Castiel’s, testing the boundaries of their devotion in his flights. 

The thick chugging of the bathtub drain shook him from his revery and sent him back on the right trajectory to the bedroom. Someone, Dean most likely considering the state of Sam’s knee, had hauled in wood and started a fire in the room’s small fireplace. Ceder by the smell of it. Castiel held his hands before the flames, warmed where he hadn’t realized he had been chilled. 

Dean’s arm came around his midsection, pulling him in close and placing a tender kiss at the curve of his neck. A soft sound escaped Castiel against his will. The tension he had carried snapped and crumbled under the gentle assault. 

“Thought you’d get undressed.” Dean rumbled, his words felt through Castiel’s back more than heard. 

“I got distracted.” He lolled his head back onto Dean’s shoulder, content to feel Dean’s hands skimming up under his sweater, warm hands spread wide over his stomach. 

Behind them the bedsprings huffed a protest against the introduction of Sam’s weight. The bed, a massive effort of wood and bronze, had been another of Dean’s triumphs though it was Castiel who had bought the mattress with a masterfully faked credit card. The sheets were the color of spring leaves and worn soft from washing. Castiel often imagined that bed beneath him when he slept in the back of his pickup, blanketed by stars. 

“You’re going to have to come to me.” Sam said, a little petulantly. 

“Baby.” Dean said, half a tease for Sam, half an endearment for Castiel. He walked backwards, crashing back to the mattress. It gave Castiel no choice, but to tuck and roll crashing onto the bed with undignified protest. “One angel, hand-delivered.” 

“Doesn’t get you out of a birthday present.” Sam warned. He’d propped himself up against the headboard, legs spread enough for Castiel crawl between them. “Hey.” 

“Hello.” Castiel raised up his arms in silent demand. Obedient despite the smirk on his face, Sam hooked his fingers under Castiel’s undershirt and sweater. It took a little doing to get them both off. 

“Spent time in the sun?” Sam asked, running his broad hands over Castiel’s chest. “You’re freckling.”

“Am I?” Castiel leaned in for a kiss. 

“Sure. Right here.” Dean’s clever fingers danced over Castiel’s shoulders, then down his spine. “And here.” 

Sam’s skin was still a little damp, sweet tasting when Castiel lowered his mouth to lick a stripe over the curve of one shoulder. One of Sam’s hands came up to Castiel’s hair, urging him onward. Without hesitation, Castiel bit down and smiled around his teeth as Sam surged up beneath him. He sucked and gnawed until Dean drew him away from the darkening mark. 

“Cas....” Sam’s pupils were blown, hair disheveled and curling against the pillows. 

“You kinky bastards.” Dean growled, a deep noise that vibrated all the way through Castiel. 

“That’s not kinky.” Sam hooked his good leg around Castiel, trying to coax him back down for more. “You’re just painfully vanilla.” 

“I whip and chain with the best of them.” Dean lied. 

“Should I take my own pants off then?” Castiel asked the open air. 

Dean tackled him down to the mattress, barely avoiding crushing Sam’s bad leg. Castiel squirmed under him, laughing as Dean fumbled with the button fly of Castiel’s jeans. He popped each one open with a triumphant ‘ha!’. When he’d gotten the last one open, he made no hesitation in peeling the denim and boxers away.

With the slow drag of skin on skin, Dean wound his way back up Castiel’s body. Castiel buried his face Dean’s neck where he smelled just like himself and hooked their legs together. It soothed all the deep aching places in Castiel’s body, left him boneless, warmed and humming like a struck tuning fork. 

“He’s getting that look.” Sam huffed a laugh. 

“Which look?” Dean drew back a little to examine Castiel’s face, then broke out in a lazy grin. “Oh, that look.” 

“Hmm?” Castiel glanced between them, wholly unconcerned. 

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Dean kissed him, a peck, once, twice. “What do you want?” 

“Anything.” He blinked, slow as molasses . 

“Hear that, Sammy? Anything, he says.” 

“I heard.” One of Sam’s hands trailed thoughtfully down Castiel’s ribs, before palming his hip. “Why don’t you go first? I want to watch for a while.” 

“Uh huh.” Dean leaned in to lick at Castiel’s bottom lip, the tip of his tongue tracing a line across it. Castiel’s skin tightened, coming alive after weeks of being ignored. “You good with that, Cas? Let me fuck you open for Sammy?” 

“Yes.” Castiel whispered between them, aware that Dean would do nothing until he coaxed agreement or dissent from him. There was a heady care that Dean poured into his lovers, not in acknowledgement of fragility, but preciousness. 

Released by the word, Dean dropped his attention from Castiel’s lips to his neck. When he was home, Castiel always wore a dark bruise over the wing of his right collarbone, worried there by Sam’s teeth to match the one Castiel left on Sam. It faded while he was away, but he rubbed at the spot anyway when he was nervous or fearful or lonely. Dean unerringly found the spot and lapped at it, a preparation for things to come. 

With a reluctant sigh, Dean lifted his mouth from the damp skin to continue his downward path. His palms swept over every inch of Castiel’s chest and belly, relearning the planes of muscle and bone. Sam’s hand still rested on Castiel’s hip, thumb rubbing maddening circles just at the line of dark pubic hair. Dean licked over Sam’s fingers, sucking the teasing thumb into his mouth. 

Castiel watched Sam press into the rubbed red of Dean’s lips. It lasted for a long liquid minute, Sam’s breath coming out in thick heaves. When Dean pulled off, the tension in the room had ratcheted up several notches. No longer content to tease, Dean reached for the bedside table. The bottle of lube was waiting for him. Castiel noticed the contents had dropped an inch or two in his absence. Turning his head to the sheets, he caught the faint whiff of sweat and sex. Two nights ago at most, probably just before Sam had put his knee out of whack. 

It was easy to picture them rough housing over the sheets until one of them was pinned beneath the other. The game had been played out for Castiel many times. He liked the rough and tumble of them together. They were still the young men he had met long ago in those moments, caught on the cusp of disillusionment and the last tattered garments of faith still clinging to them. 

Dean cupped Castiel’s thighs, coaxing his legs upwards. Easily, Castiel spread wide. He would crack open his chest if it meant getting them closer. He wasn’t hard yet, but that wasn’t unusual. Of the three of them, Castiel was always the slowest to rise. He didn’t know how old this vessel truly was anymore, but like Sam’s knee and Dean’s greys, it had its ways of betraying him. 

“Hey.” Dean said softly, rubbing a slick finger around the edges of Castiel’s hole. 

“Hello.” Castiel smiled up at him. Arousal keened through him even if his cock was only just beginning to stir. 

“Really?” Sam snorted, before leaning in to nuzzle Castiel’s cheek with his nose. “And you accuse me of being sappy.” 

“You are.” Castiel turned to take a kiss from Sam, loosening a groan into his mouth as Dean added another finger. 

They made out in syrup slow smacks until Dean tired of preparation, lined up and pushed in. Castiel’s head hit the mattress, tilting backwards with a gasp. He could still feel Sam’s breath, humid and heavy against his jaw. Dean’s hands curled around Castiel’s waist, drawing him up higher, so he could sink in deeper. 

“You look gorgeous.” Sam’s words curled treacherously in Castiel’s ear, one of his broad hands settling over Castiel’s bared throat. “Love watching you take it. Pretty blue eyes rolling up in your head, tight little hole spread wide for us.” 

“Shit, Sammy.” Dean laughed and groaned. 

“Shh, I’m talking to Cas.” Sam chided. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes.” Castiel flung out a hand, grasping for anything to tether him to bed. Sam’s free hand made an appearance, pinning Castiel’s wrist to the bed. The hard hold sent a thrill through Castiel, even as he weakly struggled against it. 

“He find your sweet spot, baby?” Sam purred. “You know how good he is at finding your sensitive places and pushing. While you were away, he was driving me crazy. Not as sensitive as you, but he kept trying. Not as good at falling apart as you are.” 

“I-” Castiel began, but it was lost in the snap of Dean’s hips. 

“Did you think about this when you were all alone out there?” Sam went on. “I bet you did. Took that gorgeous cock of yours in hand and thought about us breaking you down.” 

“And did you think of me?” Castiel asked with a thready moan, not sure how he managed to get the words past his lips. He was half-crazed now, fucked into the milky space between waking and dreaming. 

“Dean, did we think about Cas while he was away?” Sam asked, all amusement and tricks. 

“Everyday.” Dean growled, sinking down to his elbows as close as he could get in this position. Caged in, held down, Castiel felt utterly free. “Fucked Sammy raw thinking about you.” 

“I chose not to be offended by that.” Sam crossed the distance to Dean’s mouth, kissing him sloppy and showy with too much tongue. Bringing his prize to Castiel, Sam shared Dean’s kiss with him. “Since I returned the favor.” 

“I thought about that night in the lake.” Castiel hitched a leg further up Dean’s back, shuddering when Dean pulled out slowly and came back deep. “The two of you swimming in stars.” 

Sam and Dean exchanged grins, this lyrical quirk of Castiel’s pillow talk a source of constant amusement for them. Silence fell as Dean pressed in again, raining kisses down on the patches of skin he could reach. Castiel closed his eyes, lost himself in the feeling of Dean’s slow slide. Every nerve was awake, keening under the sweep of fingers and lips. 

“Dean.” He huffed out reverently at the end of one long push. Lifting his unfettered hand, Castiel threaded fingers into Dean’s hair. Dean laid a kiss in the palm of his hand and came with a shudder that shook through Castiel like a clap of thunder. 

“You ok, old man?” Sam teased as Dean collapsed into Castiel in slow motion. Dean lazily flipped him off. Castiel ignored his own aching need for a few fragile seconds to stroke Dean’s hair until his breathing fell into something approaching normal. Reluctantly, Dean pulled out and rolled to the side. 

“Looks like you’re on the ragged edge there.” Dean whispered one finger over Castiel’s cock, finally making a serious effort to a full erection. “Gonna let Sammy take care of that for you?” 

“Come here.” Sam didn’t let Castiel answer, though of course it was a resounding yes. 

Shaking a little, Castiel managed to get up on his knees and carefully straddle Sam. Castiel held Sam’s gaze with absolute concentration, the sensation of a cockhead circling his come drenched hole taking backseat to the shivering intensity of Sam’s eyes locked on his. 

“I love you.” Castiel liked saying the words, feeling them slip slide honest over his tongue. He liked watching Sam’s heated gaze soften from greedy want to affectionate desire. Sam could hear the words as many times as Castiel was willing to provide them, drinking them down as if he’d been dying of thirst. 

To Dean, Castiel held the words differently and used them more sparingly. Dean couldn’t accept them off handedly while washing dishes or on the high of sex. The way Castiel loved Dean didn’t allow for casualness. 

Castiel loved Dean like the angel he had been, absolutely and without boundaries. An angel’s love was consuming, coded into DNA, written large in the blueprints of their intent. Sometimes Castiel tasted the divine on Dean’s tongue and saw the plans of the universe written in the slope of his shoulders. Castiel loved Dean because he had no choice. He loved him like a devotee, a pilgrim come to Mecca. 

Castiel loved Sam like the man he had become. He had fallen for him over dinners and movies and shared passions. He loved Sam with exasperation and laughter. It had swollen inside of him from seed to a pulsing ache, natural and maddening. Sometimes Castiel would catch Sam at some small action, pushing back his hair or folding his glasses and a wave of affection would wash over him. Castiel loved Sam because he had the freedom to choose it. He loved him like a partner, a soldier returning home. 

“Love you too, Cas.” Sam said hoarsely, hands coming to rest on Castiel’s hips. Then he was pushing up and in. 

Already a little sore, the thrust took Castiel’s breath away. It burned and tore at him, even as it delivered sweet pleasure to rattle over his nerves. Sam gave no quarter, flattening his right foot to bed, gaining more leverage. He fucked into Castiel in hard long strokes, fingers biting hard into Castiel’s hips. The bed shook under them. 

Not content to watch, Dean rolled into Sam’s side. He pushed aside Sam’s hair to whisper in his ear. A broken laugh shuddered out of Sam’s throat, then he pushed upward, propping himself up on his elbows until Castiel had to lean back against Sam’s bent right leg or be thrown off entirely. 

“You’re being quiet.” Sam said into the humid hush between their bodies. 

“Am I?” 

“Lost in thought?” Sam rolled his hips and Castiel’s breath scrapped out his lungs. 

“No.” He gripped Sam’s shoulders, heaved himself upwards then sank back down with another caught breath. “I’m here.” 

“Are you?” Sam searched his face. 

“Yes.” The muscles caught under Castiel’s hands trembled minutely. “I’m with you.” 

Sam leaned in, a near impossible angle and kissed Castiel bruisingly. When he pulled away, licking at his lips, Castiel whimpered. After that, all hell broke loose. Sam picked up his punishing rhythm and Castiel dissolved into a series of throaty groans. The slide of Sam’s cock inside him took up all the space in Castiel’s head, fireworks bursting behind his eyes when Sam nailed his prostate. Dean insinuated a hand between them, wrapping his hand around Castiel’s dripping cock. 

Still Castiel teetered on the knife’s edge of orgasm, close, but unable to fall. He clawed at Sam’s shoulders, head thrown back and swearing in Enochian, the harsh syllables crackling through the air. 

“I’ve got you.” Sam drew him close, then sank his teeth into the meat of Castiel’s shoulder. It was the completion of the circuit and Castiel came violently. It ripped through him and left him torn apart, cradled uselessly in the circle of Sam’s arms. 

Since the beginning, Castiel had always gone a bit hazy after sex. Initially Sam and Dean had fussed over him, concerned that he’d blown a fuse or something. These days, they tended just to laugh at him and get him settled comfortably. He’s vaguely aware of Sam wiping away the mess left on his stomach with a t-shirt and Dean rolling him into a clinging embrace. They talked over his head, a rise and fall of banter, insults and endearments. 

The sun had gone entirely now. The firelight shielded the room from oncoming darkness. Castiel buried his nose into Dean’s neck, grabbed weakly at Sam’s arm to drag it over the both of them. He wanted to burrow down between them and wake later buried in them. 

“You ok?” It was Dean’s question, but Sam echoed it, lips to the back of Castiel’s neck. 

“Happy.” He told them both. “Just very happy to be home.” 

_Tomorrow,_ he thought as he drifted to sleep, _tomorrow I will sit on the dock and watch Dean fish. I will listen to Sam tell me about his research. Tomorrow I will tell them that I don’t want to travel anymore._

Tomorrow he would tell them he was home for good.


End file.
